


A Quiet Moment

by KainichivonDiamond



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders has very soft hair, Cunnilingus, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:17:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KainichivonDiamond/pseuds/KainichivonDiamond
Summary: Today he was being very indulgent for her; he was sitting on the chest at the foot of their bed while she sat cross-legged on the bed right behind him, slowly combing her fingers through his hair to rid it of tangles. She smiled softly at the feel of the soft strands going through her fingers. “Can I braid your hair?”





	A Quiet Moment

She loved his hair, particularly when it was undone and hanging loose. And now that he was living with her and had access to regular baths, it was consistently soft. He knew of her weakness for his hair as well; he was very quick to indulge her. She noticed that he tended to let his hair down once he entered the house where before he left it up until he was ready to get into bed.

Today he was being very indulgent for her; he was sitting on the chest at the foot of their bed while she sat cross-legged on the bed right behind him, slowly combing her fingers through his hair to rid it of tangles. She smiled softly at the feel of the soft strands going through her fingers. “Can I braid your hair?” she’s already pulling three even bits of hair out to begin to do so before he even answers.

“Did you ever wear your hair in braids? When you were little?” he tilts his head back to meet her eyes, a small smile on his face. The smile grows when she tugs him back a bit further so she can kiss him on the lips just to do so. He reaches back to slip his fingers into her hair in turn. “I bet you were adorable; long red hair all done up in braids.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “I sawed my hair off with a knife when it got too long. Braids were more Bethany’s thing.” She can feel her smile turning sad at the thought of her little sister. She could still remember their mother holding the twins in her lap, trying to braid Bethany’s hair while also trying to give Carver enough attention.

She slips her arms around his shoulders and hugs him to her chest, nuzzling her nose behind his ear. His blunted nails scratch at her scalp; she playfully nips at his ear in retaliation, savoring the quiet groan it draws from him. She turns her head just so to bury her face into his hair and inhales. He smells like her soap, smoke from Darktown, and magic. It helps distract her from the sad thoughts that always hover at the edge of her mind.

Anders tugs at her hair again until she pulls back. His hand leaves her hair and goes down to brace on the edge of the bed. She takes the hint, scooting back so he can pull himself up onto the bed. She gives his arm a light pull as she continues moving back. Her back is against the headboard, the back of his shoulders against her chest and his head resting back against her shoulder. Her knees pressed to his sides as if to keep him in place.

She turns her head to kiss his temple and strokes over his chest. “I love you.” She whispers, hugging him tightly. Her breath catches in her chest at the look her gives her; she could remember her father giving such a look to her mother. His lips are soft beneath hers and he tastes of milk tea when their tongues meet. She slips a hand down his front to slip under the band of his sleeping pants and into his smalls.

He breaks away from her mouth with a groan when she takes him in hand. His head presses against her shoulder as she slowly strokes him. She watches him bite his bottom lip, slips a hand under his undershirt to run her fingers through the hair on his chest. His knuckles are gripping the blanket beneath him.

“I love you so much.” She bites at his jaw, revels in the feel of his stubble rough against her tongue when she soothes over the bite. He’s panting, falling apart beneath her hands, every aborted thrust of his hips causing him to rub against where her own are pressed to his back. It’s not quite enough to get her there, but watching his eyes fall closed and listening to the choked moans he’s fighting makes her think she might be able to get off without him touching her.

She craves more of his voice, wants to hear her name echo off the walls of their room. “You’re not in the Circle, Anders.” She nips at his ear again, less playful this time. She squeezes him at the base when he bites his bottom lip again. No, not yet. “No one is going to come rip you away from me; no one is going to hear us. Talk to me, love. I want to hear you.”

“Maker’s breath!” His voice is ragged in the most wicked, wonderful way. He tries to thrust up into the grip of her hand but the way he’s laying against her doesn’t give him the best leverage to do so. “Fuck, Mia, I’m so— _please_.”

She moans into his ear, yes, that’s just what she wants, and has pity on him, moving her hand again. He’s leaking steadily, which she uses to slick up her movements. Her hand on his chest pinches at a nipple.

He comes with a loud groan that vibrates through her chest from where it’s pressed to his back. He slumps down her front, forcing her filthy hand out of his now soiled sleeping pants. She smirks at the sight of him struggling to catch his breath. His eyes follow her hand as she lifts it to lick the mess he’d made from her palm, chasing the taste of him between her fingers. There’s a fire in his eyes as he watches; a hunger that matches the flare between her thighs.

“You are an evil, wicked woman, Hawke.” His voice is husky with want. He sits up and turns around, eyes burning into hers as his hands move to her hips. She lifts them to make it easier for him to pull her leggings down to her thighs. There’s some shifting before they’re tossed to the floor. “A wonderful, awful woman.” She presses up eagerly when he leans forward, meeting him halfway for a kiss that she knows he can taste himself in.

She’s on her back shortly, the top of her tunic having joined her leggings on the floor, thinking he means to make love to her properly. Which, you know, she is all for. The idea of having him sink into her, of him filling her, making her gasp with every slow rolls of his hips…she moans at the idea of it, rocking her hips up towards him. “Anders…” she breaths his name.

“Maker’s breath, you’re beautiful.” His tone is dripping with awe. His hands stroke over her hips as if he’s revering them. He scoots back a bit so he can lean down, tongue darting out to trace an old scar on her right ribs. “We’re not in the Circle, remember? That means I get to take my time with you, love.” He sets his lips to the faded mark and bites down just hard enough to start to hurt. His hands close around her hips and lift them up enough for him get the pillow under them, keeping them off the bed.

Her breath hitches when his lips make their way south; she spreads her legs wider for him. He looks up, eyes meeting hers right when his tongue first strokes over the little bundle of nerves. She can see his smirk but he’s licking her again before she can even begin to care. Let him be smug so long as he keeps treating her with this sweetness.

She tries to focus on the scratch of his scruff on her inner thighs to work not to roll her hips up to fuck his face. One of his hands finds hers where it is clenching the sheets and guides it to the back of his head. Taking his hint, she digs her fingers into his blonde strands, tries not to clench hard enough to hurt though she probably does anyway as he draws more moans from her.

Maker, she loves his hair.


End file.
